by Erika Wilde
Just when Elle thought they were done at the salon, another woman led her down a hallway to a private room, where she informed Elle that Penelope had paid for a full wax service . . . and Elle had to laugh, because there had been no reason to shave anything more than her legs or armpits lately in her life, and she doubted she was going to get that lucky tonight. But by the time Ingrid was done, Elle had to admit that the new sensation of being smooth and bare felt incredibly arousing.
Penelope walked into the bedroom from her closet, holding a few pieces of jewelry in her hands, and Elle met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “You did it,” she said, giving credit where it was due. “I can’t believe it, but you managed the impossible. You really are a fairy godmother,” she teased.
“Of course I am. I told you I’d make it happen.” Penelope’s grin was smug, rightly so as she clasped a double-stranded pearl and crystal necklace around Elle’s throat, then added the matching bracelet to her wrist. “And now, you’re going to go to that fairy-tale ball and have the best night of your life.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Elle stood still as Penelope adorned her ears with a pair of dangling earrings that completed the set of high-end costume jewelry, then her friend reached for the shoe box sitting on the dresser.
“And now, for the pièce de résistance,” Penelope said with a perfect French accent as she opened the lid with a flourish to reveal the pair of white satin heels that had been completely embellished in aurora borealis crystals, which her friend found at the vintage shop on the clearance rack, of all places. Not only had they been Elle’s size, but they’d been a steal of a price, and Penelope claimed them as meant to be.
Penelope set the pair on the floor and Elle stepped into them. The shoes, like the dress, were gently worn, but all the little dazzling jewels were surprisingly intact. With them on Elle’s feet, the heels were hidden beneath the hem of her gown, except for when she took a step and they peeked out, giving a glimpse of brilliant shimmer and sparkle that would undoubtedly capture people’s attention.
Once she was completely decked out, Penelope took hold of both of Elle’s hands, her expression suddenly very serious. “You look breathtaking, Elle. Now go and find your Prince Charming.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “The last thing I have time for in my stressful, messed-up life is a man or a relationship.” Benjamin’s parting words to her after her father’s death were proof that, right now, she had very little to offer any guy long term.
“I didn’t say anything about a relationship.” Penelope’s green eyes gleamed mischievously. “This is going to be one of the most spectacular nights of your life, so make it one to remember. Find a man who gives you butterflies, makes you weak in the knees, and treats you like the desirable, sexy woman you are. Then, I’d suggest you let him whisk you away to somewhere private where he can fuck your brains out and give you all the orgasms you deserve, because two years is way too long to go without really great sex.”
Elle let out a small laugh. “And it wasn’t great with Benjamin to begin with,” she admitted. Despite Elle’s efforts to try and spice up their sex life during their relationship, her ex had been a stuffy, straightforward, strictly missionary kind of guy, which had always left Elle fantasizing what it would be like to have a man take complete control of her and her body in the bedroom.
“All the more reason to find the hottest, sexiest, single bad boy at the party and let him do all sorts of dirty, indecent things to you. More than once, if possible.” Penelope winked at her.
“We’ll see what happens,” she said, which was all Elle would commit to at this point. She’d keep an open mind and enjoy her evening, and if there happened to be a man at the ball who roused her desires and the feeling was mutual, she wasn’t opposed to indulging in a one-night fling.
No attachments or strings, it was all she’d allow, because she wasn’t going to involve any man in her current drama. As it was, she had some difficult decisions she needed to make, about her stepmother and the business, because she couldn’t keep living with the increasing amount of debt hanging over her head or the threat of losing the company her parents had built together. Somehow, someway, something had to give, and she knew it wouldn’t be greedy, money-hungry Helena, who’d recently suggested that they sell the real estate business while it was still possible and split the proceeds, to which Elle had replied, “Over my dead body.”
Penelope’s cell phone pinged, and she swiped it open and read the text before flashing a cheeky grin at Elle. “Your carriage has arrived, madam,” she announced of the car service she’d arranged to pick Elle up and deliver her to the ball.
Elle pressed a hand to the sudden nerves swirling in her belly, praying that Penelope’s plan to get her into the party really did work, or else she was going to be spending the night home alone with Lucifer, drowning her woes in a pint of ice cream, and all of her friend’s efforts would be for nothing.
“Stop fretting over the small stuff,” Penelope said, obviously reading Elle’s body language and her mind. “You got this.”
Well, she wouldn’t know that for sure unless she tried Penelope’s method of persuasion. So, she double-checked to make sure that she had the invitation and envelope addressed with her name on it in her small clutch purse, then headed down to the lobby to meet her chauffeur.
The drive getting to the Wilder Way ball—which was being held at the
MadX-Tech building owned by the Wilder family and located in an area in Brooklyn that was slowly and gradually being gentrified—was fairly quick and easy for a Saturday evening, but it seemed to take forever to get through the long, endless line of cars and limousines driving into the underground structure. By the time her car pulled up to the entry area and a valet opened her passenger door, Elle realized that it was almost forty minutes past the start of the ball.
She was one of the last guests to arrive, with a few other couples trickling in behind her as they were dropped off, too. Shaking out the skirt of her gown and lifting her head confidently, she walked up to a stern-looking middle-aged man in a suit who was clearly a part of the evening’s security, and who was checking credentials of everyone who arrived before letting them through to the party.
After approving the couple in front of Elle, the man acknowledged her with a nod of his head, though his expression remained serious. “Good evening, miss.”
“Good evening,” she replied with what she hoped reflected a composed, I’m-meant-to-be-here smile as she passed him the envelope, invitation, and her driver’s license.
While he checked her identification and skimmed through what looked to be some kind of list on his handheld tablet, Elle’s gaze followed the long length of red carpet in front of her that led to the ornately decorated double doors that were open to the festivities inside. She could see many of the fairy-tale elements entwined with flora and fauna, an array of twinkling lights that added to the magical ambiance, and even recognized the sound of Raevynn Walsh’s voice—an up-and-coming pop star and the evening’s entertainment—singing her latest hit song.
Excitement unfurled inside of Elle, until her gaze came to a stop on the three women who were walking past the open doors—her stepmother and sisters—sipping champagne and laughing in a carefree manner, until Helena happened to casually glance out the entrance and spotted Elle.
As if she couldn’t believe her eyes, Helena came to an abrupt stop, causing her daughters to do the same . . . as well as follow their mother’s narrowing gaze. Elle saw the shock on Gwen’s and Claire’s faces, the increasing anger twisting her stepmother’s features, and a moment later, the trio was huddled together in conversation, clearly discussing Elle and her unexpected presence at the ball.
With the distance separating them, along with the music, Elle couldn’t hear what they were saying but assumed it was most likely mean and derogatory, considering how furious Helena looked. Elle knew it was inevitable that she’d run into them tonight but hadn’t been prepared for the blatant animosit
y from her stepmother when Elle had been invited to the gala.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the security guy said, bringing Elle’s attention back to him and the unyielding glint in his vivid brown eyes. “I can’t let you into the ball. Your name isn’t on the guest list.”
An awful uncertainty swirled in her stomach, and despite her best efforts, the self-assured smile on her lips faltered. “But as you’ve seen, I have the invitation, the envelope with my name on it, and you have my ID to confirm my identity.”
He shook his head as he handed the paperwork back to her. “I can only let in guests who’ve RSVP’d ahead of time. It’s a security issue. No exceptions.”
Elle’s stomach dropped and she could feel her face heat with humiliation as she put everything back into her small clutch purse. So much for Penelope’s brilliant idea. And now, with curious people watching, including her stepmother and sisters, she was being publicly banished from one of the most exclusive events of the year. God, could this moment be any more awkward and mortifying?
She turned to go, but not before she saw Helena’s gleeful smirk over the situation.
A myriad of emotions sliced though Elle, and she hated the tears of frustration that burned the back of her throat, but managed to keep them at bay and as much of her pride intact as possible. She’d only taken a few steps away from security and started reaching into her purse for her cell phone to call an Uber, since her driver had already left, when a man’s deep, commanding voice cut through the awful embarrassment surrounding Elle’s departure.
“Wait.”
The one word, spoken in an authoritative tone, reverberated through Elle’s entire body, and she instinctively obeyed the order and stopped, then turned around—and not just because she was a good girl who would never ignore someone with such obvious influence. No, her reasons for complying were inherently female and directly connected to something far more fundamental located at the very core of her sexual being that instinctively prompted her to respond to that strong, compelling male tone.
The sight of a devastatingly gorgeous man in a tuxedo striding toward her had Elle’s body flashing hot in awareness, but the downward pull of his full, sensual lips quickly doused her attraction like a bucket of cold water. Whoever the man was, he had an air of importance about him, which was solidified by the way the security guy regarded him with respect and a professional stance.
“Michael, is there an issue here?” the tuxedoed man demanded to know before shifting his direct, piercing golden-brown eyes to Elle.
Elle swallowed hard against the fluttering in her throat. The man was incredibly good-looking, with thick dark hair, chiseled features, and that intensely sexy gaze that should have made her nervous but instead made her weak in the knees. God, could this situation get any more demeaning? Was he going to berate her, too, before tossing her out? She wasn’t sure she could stand a double dose of being shamed.
“There is no issue, Mr. Wilder,” Michael said, providing Elle with the realization that the other gentleman was, indeed, very important. As in, one of the hosts of the Wilder Way ball.
The man’s gaze took in her face, then boldly flicked down to the soft swells of her breasts rising above the bodice of her gown before he returned to his conversation with Michael. Just that one brief look had her nipples tightening and aching against the fabric of her dress.
While Mr. Wilder’s expression had softened a bit, he was still blunt with his employee. “Then what is the problem? Why didn’t you let her through?”
“She provided an invitation and her identification, but her name wasn’t on the RSVP list, so I had to turn her away, which has always been standard protocol for these yearly events, sir.”
Elle was actually starting to feel bad for Michael, who was just trying to do his job, and she tried to smooth things over. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Wilder,” she said, and the mention of his name drew those seductive eyes back to her, making it difficult for her to think, let alone breathe properly. “There was a mistake with the invitation and the RSVP card,” she tried to explain. “I don’t want to cause any trouble for anyone. I’m leaving.”
Before she could turn to go a second time, he stopped her once again.
“No,” he said, his tone uncompromising. “You’re staying.”
Shock rippled through Elle at the unexpected request. Or was it an order? Either way, she was stunned by his decision.
Michael sputtered. “But sir—”
Wilder waved a hand in the air to cut off his security guy. “She’s staying, Michael. As my guest,” he insisted, and that was that. Michael said no more.
Elle’s Prince Charming stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, so close she could breathe in the scent of his woodsy cologne, could see the darkening of his golden eyes and the captivating smile now curving his lips that did crazy, arousing things to her female hormones. Authoritative and intense was an incredibly hot look on him, but this charismatic version gradually emerging had the ability to sweep her off her feet.
“I’m Hunter Wilder,” he introduced himself and tipped his head curiously. “And you are?”
So incredibly smitten. Elle’s tongue suddenly felt tied, and while he was the epitome of confident male sophistication, she had to struggle not to swoon like a Disney princess in front of him. “My name is Elle.”
He raised a dark brow. “And your last name?”
She bit her bottom lip in debate, which didn’t go unnoticed by him as he candidly looked at her mouth like he wanted to devour it. The thought sent a jolt of lustful need pulsing deep and low, settling in all those dormant places that had forgotten what it felt like to be wanted and desired.
There was something incredibly magical about this moment, about tonight and this enigmatic man who’d made the decision to stop her from leaving when he easily could have watched her go. This evening was all about fairy tales, where anything could happen, and she wanted that enchanted, mysterious feeling to remain, because tomorrow, her less-than-appealing reality still awaited her. And she was fairly certain that an affluent, dynamic man like Hunter Wilder wouldn’t be interested in a woman who had a wealth of issues and problems currently plaguing her life.
With that thought in mind, she kept her reply coy and flirtatious and her full identity anonymous. “Tonight, it’s just Elle.”
“Okay, Just Elle,” he teased, his voice infused with amusement as he extended his bent arm to her in a gallant gesture. “Will you be my date for the evening and accompany me to the Wilder Way ball?”
Determined to have fun with this man and enjoy her evening, wherever it might lead, she nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. “It would be my pleasure to be your date for the evening.”
A slow, sinful smile eased up the corners of his kissable mouth as he slid a big, warm hand over the one resting on his forearm to hold it there—as if she’d even consider letting him go. “Trust me, beautiful girl, before this evening is over, I have a feeling the pleasure is going to be all mine.”
The dark, forbidden promises glinting in his eyes stole her breath and sent a delicious, decadent heat cascading through her veins. Oh, Lord. Elle sincerely hoped so.
Chapter 3
Hunter rolled his shoulders beneath the fitted tuxedo jacket, trying to ease the tension gathering there as he strolled through the throng of guests attending the Wilder Way charity ball. He hated formal events, and the last place on earth he wanted to be tonight was at a whimsical fairy-tale-themed party. But considering he was one of the hosts for the evening’s gala and his sister, Tempest, would literally kick his ass if he didn’t meet and greet their wealthy, influential donors and make his presence known, Hunter dutifully made the rounds.
Sipping on his second glass of bourbon, he acknowledged Manhattan’s elite with a forced smile and stopped to converse with many of the businessmen who used MadX-Tech’s security systems and services. As he listened politely as the men discussed recent economic events, he glance
d just beyond where they were gathered and met the gaze of a pretty, and very spoiled, socialite he’d met at a trendy Manhattan bar a few weeks back—and subsequently fucked and forgotten about until this moment. She was standing with a group of women all dressed in their designer gowns and finery, and she gave him a flirtatious finger wave and a come-hither smile, one that told him she could easily be persuaded to spread her legs for him again.
He broke eye contact so as not to encourage her. Despite her signals, he wasn’t interested. She hadn’t been that good or that memorable and not nearly as adventurous as he liked. She’d been a standard lackluster fuck who’d insisted on the lights being off and had faked an orgasm like a porn star. Impressive, really, but he found it much hotter and sexier when a woman was open and honest about what she needed from him to come—whether it was with his fingers, mouth, or dick, or a combination thereof—rather than put on an elaborate act that had come close to deflating his erection. So, no, he wasn’t even remotely enticed by her silent offer.
Once pleasantries were over with the men he was talking to, Hunter quickly moved on, because despite the various distractions around him, his mind was on more crucial matters—like the fact that his elder brother, Maddux, had every intention of finally delivering a shocking dose of revenge to the man who’d killed their parents fourteen years ago.
And it was happening here. Tonight. At the ball. Not publicly, of course, but in a private room located up a cordoned-off flight of stairs leading to a second level that was off-limits for the evening. Except to Maddux, who would be conducting “business” there.
Hunter felt a female arm slide through his bent one and stiffened, hoping that his one-night stand hadn’t latched on to him. Cautiously, he glanced to his right to find his sister, Tempest, now strolling beside him, thank God. Despite the smile she gave him, he could tell that she was nervous about how the evening was going to play out with Maddux, too. There was a lot at stake, and all the three of them wanted was to ruin Theodore Cole professionally and financially, which was the closest thing to vengeance they’d be able to obtain.
